


I'm Ready to Go Now

by Random_Fandom_writer



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Ghost Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Guilt, Heavy Angst, I mean like really squint, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, The events that happen after he tells the truth, Tree bros if you squint, dont get used to it fuckers, its mostly just friendly stuff, more like giving up, post connor project, the one canon compliant thing I will write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Fandom_writer/pseuds/Random_Fandom_writer
Summary: His head hurts. This is why he's here in the first place. His head hurts and his chest hurts and his thighs really fucking hurt and he can't make it stop. He wants to make it stop. He needs to make it stop, but it's not working, nothing he seems to do is working.He can faintly hear them if the ringing in his ears is any indication. The voices. He can hear them and they won't go away. Not this time. Because he has fucked up big time, and they are certainly not going to let him forget it.Or...Evan feels guilty after the Connor project blows up and processes his emotions in the only way he knows how to.





	I'm Ready to Go Now

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with no planning at all. I literally opened a new document and started writing whatever I felt like and this is the outcome. It's a mess but it's my gift to you.
> 
> Anyways, this is probably really triggering so be careful. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Self harm, suicidal ideation, swearing, suicide

_One for Zoe._

One cut for Zoe, neat and tidy on his thigh. Straight and practiced. Perfect. He rests his head against the bathroom wall, jaw clenched tightly to prevent the muffled whine from escaping.

Another.

And another.

And another.

All for Zoe.

His head hurts. This is why he's here in the first place. His head hurts and his chest hurts and his thighs _really fucking hurt_  and he _can't make it stop_. He wants to make it stop. He _needs_ to make it stop, but it's not working, nothing he seems to do is working.  

He can faintly hear _them_ if the ringing in his ears is any indication. The voices. The voices that claw and writhe and jab inside of his stomach, causing hot bile to rise up his throat and tears to well in his eyes. He can hear _them_ as they softly whisper both lies and truths. He can't tell which is which anymore. They're not going away, not this time. Because he has fucked up big, and _they_ are certainly not going to let him forget it.

He glances down at his thighs and almost vomits.

He really should be used to the blood by now.

_'This is for you, Zoe. My gift to you. My peace offering.'_

Maybe if she sees that he's been punished she'll forgive him. Well, maybe not forgive, but it might soften the blow.

***

_One for Jared._

One more cut for Jared, who we can't forget now can we? _'You hurt him too Evan, Zoe isn't the only one you fucked over.'_ He fucked him over quite badly actually. What was he thinking when he dumped his only friend on the pavement.

Sorry.

Family friend. Although he's not so sure he even deserves to be called that anymore.

Another.

And another.

And another.

All for Jared.

He feels sick, the coppery smell of blood finally getting to him. He thinks he should stop- _'I'd like to stop now please-'_   But he still has a long way to go. Many more people to compensate.

Besides, he deserves this.

***

_One for Heidi._

One more cut for Heidi. He doesn't deserve to call her mom anymore. He lost the title of her son when he lied to her.

Another.

And another.

And another.

All for Heidi.

His vision is getting a bit hazy and it's then he realizes how deep he's going. That's not good. He still has so much more to go, he can't do that if unconscious. No. He'll cut shallower next time. He wants this to last.

***

_One for Cynthia._

One cut for Cynthia, who he thinks he hurt the most. _'She lost her son and you took advantage of her. You are a terrible person Evan Hansen. The worst. They all hate you, everybody hates you now and its your fault, your fault, your fault-'_

Another.

And another.

And another.

All for Cynthia.

Are you seeing the pattern?

A small pool of blood has formed surrounding Evans legs, staining his boxers, and hopefully, not staining the white tile. He'll have to remember to bury them deep in the trash.

***

_One for Larry._

One cut for Larry. ' _Remember Larry?_ ' This counts as the second time he's lost a father, and both instances had been his fault. It's kinda funny, losing two dads. Maybe that's his thing. His superpower.

Shut up, it's funny.

Evan's always been one to see humor in the morbid bits of life.

Another.

And another.

And another.

All for Larry.

Tears are sliding down his cheeks, and he only realizes when he tastes the salt on his tongue after one rolls into his parted jaw. He quickly wipes them away. He's cried enough now to learn that it won't fix anything.

***

_One for Alana._

One cut for Alana, who he dragged into this mess. Alana was good. She just wanted to help. Unlike Evan. Evan was selfish. _'Why can't you be more like Alana Evan? Why can't you be more like Alana, or Jared, or Zoe because they don't manipulate other peoples families for personal gain.'_

Another.

And another.

And another.

All for Alana.

His last cut is shaky. His hands are trembling, that must be why. He chokes on a sob because _'you even managed to mess this up Evan, how fucked are you?'_

***

That's it. That's all. All the people. Zoe, Jared, Heidi, Cynthia, Larry, Alana, all of them.

All but one.

He picks up the razor, pressing it to his thigh again.

_One for Connor._

One cut for Connor, the missing boy with the missing pills. Connor, with the heterochromia eyes, and greasy hair. Connor, with untreated mental problems and daddy issues. Connor, the dead boy. 

His "best friend."

Another.

And another.

And another.

All for Connor.

He's made quite the mess, he notes as he focuses on his marred thighs. Both in a literal and figurative sense.

***

Connor shouldn't have died he thinks. He wants to believe that he should be alive. That he deserves to be alive.

But the truth is that he doesn't know.

He didn't know Connor. He doesn't know if he's a good person, or a bad person, or one of those confusing morally grey people that are impossible to place in a neat little box of good or bad. Neither black, nor white. No, Connor was more than that. He was bursting with colour that was once vibrant and lively. _'Maybe a red- crimson.'_

His colours dulled eventually. That's what it's like when you're messed in the head. At least that's what it's like for Evan, who may or may not be projecting. He's done a lot of that recently.

Evan knows what box he belongs in, what colour he is and was, and if anyone deserves to die, it's him. Not Connor.

He barely registers the calling of his name followed by light footsteps. "Evan honey, are you still up? It's late."

_'Shitshitshitshitshit-'_

The door knob jiggles. Thank fuck he locked the door. "You ok in there?"

He doesn't respond. He can't, even if he wanted to, because now his eyelids are drooping and it's taking all his remaining energy to stay awake.

A third voice joins the party. "Finally decided to join me Hansen?"

Connors back. Well this hasn't happened in a while.

_'I thought you were done tormenting me.'_

"Yeah, well not yet."

_'And now the fucker can read my mind. Great.'_

He barked out a laugh, clapping his hands together. "Evan, I'm inside your head. Of course I can read your mind."

_'Right. A fabrication. More proof of your craziness.'_

He can muddily hear someone banging on the door, probably trying to get in. It doesn't really matter whatever it is.

"So what's the plan?" Connor plops on the floor in front of Evan, crossing his legs.

"What plan?" He nearly chokes on the effort it takes to spit out the words, but it seems wrong to have this conversation non-verbally.

A smirk. God, he hates that smirk. "You can make a choice here Evan. You can go unlock that door, and let her help you. Let her call the ambulance, and then be whisked into some suffocating hospital room that costs more than you do, where you will spend time wallowing in your own self pity, and then be taken away to the fucking insane asylum." He pauses, watching for Evan's reaction. He keeps his face neutral out of spite. He will not give him that satisfaction. "Or." A painful pause. "You could lay here and die. Alone. In a pool of your own blood. Off yourself in the most disgusting way possible." Connor looks at the ever growing puddle of red beneath him. "Quickly though, times-a-ticking."

He doesn't need long. The decision is practically made for him. He can still hear pounding and the wail of a siren but it's distant now.

"I'm ready to go now." His voice is soft, barely a murmur against his lips.

Something in his gaze flickers but Connor only nods, smiling sadly at the other.

"Will you be there when I get there?"

Another nod.

"Can you hold my hand?"

He nods once more, this time cupping Evans hand with both of his.

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know that too."

He falls silent, closing his eyes and tipping his head back and letting his body relax.

The world falls away.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this start to finish without a break. This came out of nowhere I am so sorry I honestly don't know how this happened. I just started writing and I couldn't stop. 
> 
> Anyways, comments give me life. Like, I feed exclusively off of comments and I am so hungry.


End file.
